


Oh, I Wanna Feel The Heat With Somebody

by Saturdaynightspecial



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Absolutely Filthy, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Grinding, Kinda hard to get riku, Kissing, M/M, Modern AU, PWP, Riku's straining button, The Game Is Afoot, They're switchy boys what can I say, kinda bratty sora, power switching, really - Freeform, semi-public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturdaynightspecial/pseuds/Saturdaynightspecial
Summary: It wasn’t like Sora planned these things—didn’t plan much of anything, in fact, just liked to go into things with the barest preparation and one hand on the seat of his pants to fly by. And, well, he’d be lying if he said this was the first time he’d dragged Riku off to some shady alcove just far enough away from other people to not get them arrested, Riku usually resistant until Sora shattered that legendary resolve—which was his second favorite thing to do, really, behind the things that happened right after.But it had been two weeks since Riku had been home, and Sora had already agreed to this club outing when Riku had shown up early from his business trip unannounced. To surprise him.Sora had never been very good at waiting.





	Oh, I Wanna Feel The Heat With Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This is sure by far the most abjectly, unapologetically PWP thing I've even written. There's just no getting around it, but then again, that's hopefully what you're here for!
> 
> I'm picturing this as a modern au but really it could be in-universe too. The world of this fic is your oyster. Or your horny supernova.
> 
> Thanks to my Soriku writer friends for harassing me to post this, you know who you are.

It wasn’t like Sora _ planned _ these things—didn’t plan much of anything, in fact, just liked to go into things with the barest preparation and one hand on the seat of his pants to fly by. And, well, he’d be lying if he said this was the first time he’d dragged Riku off to some shady alcove just far enough away from other people to not get them arrested, Riku usually resistant until Sora shattered that legendary resolve—which was his second favorite thing to do, really, behind the things that happened right after.

But it had been two weeks since Riku had been home, and Sora had already agreed to this club outing—one of Kairi’s ideas, some kind of _ girls’ night _ extended to Sora because he wouldn’t stop sighing and ‘_searching the horizon and touching windows like a depressed sailor’s wife_’—Kairi’s words (which, by the way, he was _definitel_y not)—when Riku had shown up early from his business trip unannounced. To _ surprise _him.

_ Surprise _ him! Appeared like a vision from heaven in a deep blue shimmery button down number and black jeans so tight they could have been _ painted _ on to _ surprise _ him. Waved at him with a sheepish grin and a, “Hey Sora, late flight, I haven’t even been home yet,” before Sora was yanking him down by the skinny tie (the _ tie _ !) and showing him _ exactly _ how much he missed him, in several creative ways edging on indecent before Kairi cleared her throat and Sora was reluctantly lowering himself down to the flats of his shoes and Riku was detaching roving hands from the pockets of Sora's jeans.

It was apparent they both did a shit job of planning, that much was obvious. One heated Riku glance over Kairi’s shoulder had Sora nearly losing it in his pants, and that would just _ not _ do, because Riku smirked at him like he _ knew _ . Sora was itching for _ something _ , for revenge maybe—revenge that his boyfriend could wear a shirt that _ sinfully _ tight, a lone button straining over his chest and bunching over his biceps like Sora _ wouldn’t _ want to jump him at the earliest opportunity.

Not to mention Riku was making small _ talk—small talk! _ —with Naminé like Sora wasn’t a slowly expanding horny supernova two feet to his left and barely keeping it together, his own conversation with Kairi about her new clothing collection long since six feet under, Riku’s exposed forearm gently laid across his lower back in a gesture that was normally _ very _ comforting and sweet but right now felt like a brand burning through his shirt, and here _ Riku _ was, forming fully realized sentences and polite affirmations at her description of her new apartment with Xion. 

Not that Sora didn’t love them both—he did, dearly—but all of that was firmly down the priority list from pinning Riku to the nearest surface and having him in any way possible, people be damned, until he could wipe that fucking smirk from his face.

Which was how, in a break in the crowd and the conversation and the dancing (Riku, again, dancing with Kairi in some cute little spin situation that would have been endearing and sweet at any other time while he and Naminé re-enacted bad 80s moves together) that sent Kairi and Naminé towards the bar, Sora seized Riku’s hand in his own and walked him in quick steps to the closest grimy alcove—by the stairs, shouldering and shoving his way through walls of bodies so quickly he was almost growling, barely heard Riku’s disbelieving snort at his back over the roving strobe lights and the sound.

“They’re _ going _ to wonder where we went,” Riku said, like that even _ mattered _ , like Kairi hadn't known them since they were kids and wasn’t sending Sora knowing eye rolls all night, so Sora slammed Riku’s back into the wall, reveling in the soft _ oof _ , and pinned him there with his entire body. “I don’t _ care _ ,” Sora said, drinking in the widening of Riku’s eyes. _ Good _. He was realizing what he’d done. He could apologize to them later, because right now he needed Riku’s hands on him, grabbed them in his own and slid him firmly onto his ass as he leaned up to nip that throat over the collar of the shirt, hands sliding up that silky tie to loosen the knot, then moving on to unbutton the first pearl button in one practiced motion as he went to expose more of that chest. 

“I missed you,” Sora hummed against Riku’s throat, against his swallow, and the hands on his ass tightened. “_ So much _.”

“I missed you too,” Riku answered. “But we’re going to be home in a few hours,” he began, which was so _ stupid _ that Sora hooked his fingers in the knot of the tie again and dragged him down into a bruising kiss, his hands pulling Riku’s hips towards his own by the belt loops to grind purposefully there as he tilted his head for more pressure, seeking that connection until Riku suddenly broke the kiss to breathe, face bright red and eyes half-lidded between the heat and Sora’s insistent kiss. He looked so _ ravished _ already that Sora had to bite his lip against all the blood rushing south, catching Riku’s distracted eyes following that motion of Sora’s tongue before snapping back up. But Sora _ saw _.

Riku’s head fell back against the wall as he groaned, Sora leaning up on tiptoes to pepper kisses along that arch. “Sora,” he pleaded, hands coming up to bracket Sora’s waist, as if making to push him away but not _ quite _ making it. “You’re so—ah— _ impatient _ ,” he hissed, and Sora felt cracks forming in that legendary resolve, felt the triumphant bellow of victory forming in his throat. What Riku had in patience, Sora had in stubborn, unyielding will, like waves slowly breaking down a beach. _ Just a little more. _

“Tell me to stop,” Sora said, harsh and low because he was really _ daring _ him more than anything at this point, putting faith in the helpless twitching of Riku’s fingers trailing up his back and the stuttering of his breath. “And I’ll stop, and we can both go back to _ talking _.”

“You weren’t doing a good job of _ that _ to begin with,” Riku responded, his voice warbling a little in the middle as Sora gripped his waist, blunt fingernails against silky fabric.

“Whose,” Sora nipped at his ear, “fault,” then kissed the corner of his mouth, “is that, Riku?”

The mental _ snap _ was nearly audible—Riku was a patient man, but he wasn’t a _ saint _ , and Sora knew exactly how pent up he probably was right now. He would wait it out on business trips, refusing to touch himself no matter how Sora begged him to, like their own little long distance game of wills, because it made the reunion so much _ better _ . And of course Sora wouldn’t either—like he would lose to Riku in _ anything _ he could help—and thus the result was entirely, _ totally _ Riku’s fault.

Riku pulled them flush together so quickly Sora squeaked in surprise, then muttered something like _ impossible _ before running his tongue along Sora’s lower lip, and when he opened his mouth for Riku, it tasted like victory on his tongue, and when Riku’s arms snaked around his back, it felt like _ finally _.

He brushed a hand up along the inside seam of Riku’s jeans, just short of the obvious bulge, and Riku nearly sobbed into the kiss, a harsh _ hah _ against his mouth. “ _ That _ doesn’t sound like stop,” Sora pulled back enough to mutter, pride leeching into every word. Riku peeled his eyes open, dark and blown wide with emerald fire, Sora lost in them for a moment until Riku rolled his hips purposefully and said “ _ It isn’t _,” low and helpless for Sora alone, and he gripped Sora’s chin to roughly kiss him again, the press and release of their lips slides together maddening. 

“Do you want me?” Sora purred, barely audible against his lips and the pulsing sound of the bass in his bones. Riku’s grip on his hips tightened, fingers searching for bone under his shirt, and Sora pressed ever closer, his hand sneaking up to smooth over his collarbone, his shoulders. He knew the answer, but his favorite part of this game was when Riku told him—loved when Riku told him much of anything, the lush cadence of his voice breaking over feelings and rushes of blood.

“Always,” was the answer, and Sora smiled at him, soft and full of wonder even after all this time, because when Riku said it, he believed him.

So Sora turned, presenting his back as he pressed every vertebrae from the base of his spine up into Riku’s hips, the hard line of his stomach, his chest, reveling in the way Riku’s hands helped turn him, biting him lip against his own arousal. “Hold me,” Sora commanded, and Riku did, arms shifting to hold tight against Sora’s abdomen, the pressure like a vice. “G-good,” Sora said, and he let his skull thump back against Riku’s shoulder. “Like this,” Sora said, catching the barest hint of green sliding closed. “Do it like this.”

“Here?” Riku said, a little tingle of fear there that Sora wanted badly to lick from his tongue, but the arms around him tightened and caged him in, and he lost the want to move.

“You can be quiet. I know you can.” Sora slipped a hand back to squeeze at his thigh in encouragement, smoothing over the fabric.

“Fuck,” Riku cursed, breathing into his ear. “Sora, I—“

“_Move_, Riku,” Sora told him, and the first roll of his hips against Sora’s ass almost had him keening too. His hands found purchase on Riku’s forearms, nails biting firmly into the skin as he answered, an undulation to the motion he matched as Riku moved to meet him, both of them hissing when the friction connected. 

“W-what,” Sora tried, but Riku shuddered against him and panted in his ear and Sora forgot where they were for a second, everything whited out. “What are you picturing?”

Riku peeled back enough to send kisses skittering down Sora’s shoulder and throat. “W-what?” He sounded raw, ragged and broken, and Sora wanted to drown in that forever.

Sora’s nails scratched a line across Riku’s forearm, the hair there standing on end as Riku fell forward, and Sora braced against his weight. “Riku. Tell me what you’re picturing,” he said, smoothing the lines in apology. “What would you do if we weren’t here right now?”

“I—fuck, Sora—“

He leaned his head back enough to see Riku’s glazed eyes. “I want to hold you down and suck you dry against this wall,” he said in the break in the beat, his tongue darting across his lip at the thought, and Sora felt the shudder go all through Riku and thought: good. He was halfway gone already, and Sora kind of wanted to know how far this could go. “That’s what _ I’m _ picturing.”

He rolled his head a little to look at him, grazing his cheek with a palm. “_ Talk _ to me, Riku.”

“I-I can’t,” he hissed out, so Sora pressed backward until he stilled, sliding the hand up to bury in short hair and _ tug _ . “Yes you can,” he said. He adopted his best impression of the Riku Master Voice and it twisted his mouth into a smirk, because it felt good to use it on someone else for once. “ _ Focus _.”

Apparently, he did. His arms unwound to grip Sora roughly by the hips again, and he gasped a little in surprise at the treatment. “I’m picturing _ you _ ,” came Riku’s voice, hot and wet against his ear. “ _ Yes _ ,” he breathed back, every nerve ending tingling with the feeling, at Riku enfolding all of him he could reach. His pants were a slippery mess already, he could feel it—it wouldn’t be long at this rate. “ _ I want to take you against this fucking wall until you’re so loud we get thrown out of here.” _

Sora whined at the mental picture, one hand gripping to pull harder on that hair, the other scrabbling to intertwine atop Riku’s on his hips, both of them gripping hard enough to bruise. “Keep talking,” he gasped, wanting to kiss him and touch him all at once and unable to do either. He was rapidly losing control of the situation, but he wasn’t sure he _ cared—Riku _ was sliding his hands under the front of his shirt and skating around his belt teasingly until he settled across his lower stomach, inches out of range of where he wanted them. 

Riku held onto Sora with a punishing grip, pushing into him with sharp little snaps of his hips that focused Sora’s mind on the image, had him imagining him pushing _ up _ , pushing _ in— _

Riku’s voice was low in his throat. “I would—ah—let you stand u-until you couldn’t anymore, and then if—ah—hold you up until we slid all the way down this wall,” he said, and Sora arched into his touch, arched and lost his mind as Riku’s palms came up under his shirt to drag down his chest, thumbing his nipples, leading a burning trail to his belt before tracking up again, biting down on a loud moan. It was too much and not enough, the assault of sensations and sweat on their skin and vibrations he felt through Riku and the wall, it was _ too much _ and he needed _ more _. “Ah—would kiss down your neck until you were begging me to touch you,” he panted, gravelly and low against Sora’s ear.

“W-would never,” Sora protested, even as he was fruitlessly tugging one of Riku’s hands towards his belt but it wasn’t _ giving _ , the resistance there was rapidly becoming _ annoying; _ passing the line from _ teasing _ to _ urgent _.

“You would,” Riku murmured, grazing his teeth against the side of Sora’s throat in the ghost of a bite, sending him shivering. “You’re begging right now.” And he _ was _ . He wasn’t sure how the tables had been turned so quickly but he was so far beyond _ caring _ it was laughable.

“_Riku_,” he whined instead, pressing back into the hardness against his ass, rubbing until Riku sucked a breath in. “Come _ on _.”

“Come on _ what _, Sora?” he asked, a barest laugh in his voice that sent Sora rolling his eyes against the pun. 

“Me,” he said before he could think because, of course, that was what he wanted, he was a fool for realizing it now. “I want to feel it.”

_ “What?” _

Sora pulled his own shirt up to shoot him a look over his shoulder. “You heard me.”

Riku’s head dropped back to his shoulder. “God,” he said, one long, pained exhale that sent goosebumps rising on his skin. “You’re—so—“

“Do it,” he hissed. “Or I will before you get the chance.”

“_Fuck_,” Riku said again, and it sent a delicious thrill through him, the thought of this happening with other dancers feet away, none the wiser, and he knew if Riku didn’t _ hurry up _ he would finish without him, so riled up just on the thoughts a stiff breeze would finish him, hanging into the edge of that cliff with his fingernails.

He felt Riku unbuckle his own belt with shaking hands, dropping it the slightest bit to allow him to pull himself out, the heavy weight of it poking into Sora’s back, the slippery glide there _ so good _ he almost lost his legs completely if it weren’t for Riku holding him up, bracing his arms securely across his stomach.

“This is what you want?” Riku asked, and Sora fell back against his chest and barely managed to nod. But it wasn’t enough, not really—he needed that connection, needed to feel _ Riku—and _ he had an epiphany.

“Wait,” he panted, heart pounding at his own idea. Braced as they were in the shadowy corner, nobody would be paying too much attention to an errant arm or two, or a thigh slipped between legs...and he was thinking of that as he detangled his right arm from Riku’s hold to slip it behind his own back, knuckles brushing his spine as he slid down, down, until he felt the velvet hardness of Riku and wrapped his hand around it, thumb encircling the base.

“_ Sor—ra—haa _ ,” Riku choked out, and Sora bit down on a rush of affection, chest suffused with the trust Riku always gave him, with the connection they both had, to know where each other’s limits lay, the bond between them pulled taut and incandescent with _ need _ . But Riku’s cock twitched in his grip, and Sora tilted his head back again, grounding himself in the sound of the bass and the pounding of Riku’s heart against his back. “ _ Move _ , Riku,” he said again, punctuating it with a twist of his hand that sent Riku crushing them together so tightly he almost _ whined _.

Riku did, the _ movement _ of it, the _ slide _ so close to what he wanted Sora’s mind supplied the details, left him a shaking wreck against Riku as he felt him snap his hips into his hand over and over, hot little huffs in his ear as they both lost words completely, one of Riku’s hands clapping over his mouth as Sora failed to stifle something like a moan, and he was so _ fucking _ close but it wasn’t _ enough _ , but Riku knew, of course he did, and he roughly insisted a thigh between Sora’s legs from behind, Sora pinned there between the arm across his stomach and the imbalance he would have if not for _ Riku, Riku, Riku. _

_ Finally _ , pressure, the best thing he had _ ever _ felt, everything in him focused on that point of heat and the straining pressure as he ground down against it, he was _ almost _ gone. 

But Riku beat him once again, shuddering against his back with a final crash of sounds that might have been his name before Sora felt his release spill over his hand and up his back, the molten feel of it so _filthy _against his skin he was grinding down and throwing his head back and finally, _finally_ coming too, back arching hard and Riku’s fingers over, then _in_ his mouth to muffle his scream.

Somehow Riku had turned him without Sora noticing, because he came back to his breathing against a firm, heaving chest, and Riku staring down at him with a rapidly cooling blush and guilty, half-lidded eyes and sex-mussed hair that looked _ very _ endearing.

Sora’s pants were even stickier, now. Not to mention his back, crusting to his skin, making him very glad they were both wearing dark shirts. He managed to stare up blearily with a lazy, sated smile, the cat who got the cream, winding his arms around Riku’s sweaty neck until his knees stopped shaking, every muscle in his body liquified and slow in his haze.

“I...We…” Riku started, and Sora _knew_ the look of panic when he saw it, longed to say something to smooth it out but his brain was too full of Riku and fog and Riku-based-fog to do much of anything besides blink stupidly up at him in support.

“We’re never coming back here again,” came the rushed, horrified whisper. Sora blinked once, then laughed so hard he shook helplessly against Riku for a few minutes before gaining his breath.

“Relax. Nobody saw.” If they did, he hoped it was at least a good show, but he didn’t mind either way. This moment belonged to Riku and him alone.

“I don’t care,” Riku said, mortified. “I’ll never be able to see this place again without _ remembering_,” his face a mask of horror, and the mental image sent Sora laughing so hard again he nearly cried, Riku’s hands mindlessly touching the base of his head, smiling by the end of it too.

“_God_, I love you,” he said, mirth painting the words as he leaned up to meet Riku, who was already leaning down, rubbing his nose affectionately with his own before pressing up. “Always.”

“Always,” Riku repeated, soft green eyes drifting closed the last thing Sora saw before sealing them together, Riku pulling back to press a wet smack to his forehead that had him batting him away, laughing.

“Hey. Riku,” Sora said, drawing back and already snickering through it. Riku’s expression was melting from embarrassed to exasperated, which was already a step up. “Do you still wanna go back and _ talk _?”

To his credit, there were a few beats of silence as Riku seemed to consider it, eyes going skyway in thought, and something in Sora drooped at the idea of going back in _ there _ when Riku was right _ here _ and their apartment was _ ten minutes away. _

Then, Riku was retracting his phone from his pocket, typing something fast and sharp above Sora’s head before replacing it, making a short, affirming sound to himself. “Riku?” He tilted his head up curiously.

But Riku was walking him backwards, one hand snaked around Sora’s wrist as he shouldered past him. “I told them you got sick and I had to take you home,” he said, all but _ towing _ Sora through the crowd, towards the entrance. The wide expanse of his back was an _ excellent _ view. The look he sent Sora over his shoulder out of slitted eyes could have melted steel, and the slow blooming smile on Sora’s face was his reward. “They said they understand and wish you a _ speedy recovery_.”

“I really, _ really _ love you,” Sora said, giddiness all over him, and he _ meant it. _He couldn’t hear Riku say it back, in the punishing sound of the crowd around them, but he read it on his lips, and the softness of his eyes, and the way he twined his hand with Sora’s, and that was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very new to this whole sharing my nsfw business, so. I hope you enjoyed?


End file.
